Falling With Style
by Just another ginge
Summary: Dying from his latest beating Nienna decides to give Harry Potter a chance to be loved. Unfortunately she decides to drop him from the skies of Arda. Is he flying, or falling with style? Well... neither. He's just plain falling. With help from the elves of Rivendell will he get his second chance as promised? Elfling!Harry No pairing yet as such. (haven't decided)


**HELLO PEOPLE OF THE FANFICTION WORLD. I humble welcome you into my fanfiction and thank you for clicking on the link. This fic was written because I have exhausted this website's elfling!harry fics so thought that I should write my own instead! :D**

**I should warn you now that I have only seen the first LOTR movie (and the first hobbit one) and read a ton of fanfiction. I HAVE NOT READ THE BOOKS. I warn you that there may be a lot of things wrong as such. Thank you.**

**So without further ado I give you the first chapter of Falling With Style.**

* * *

_**DISCLAIMER:**_

_**MY NAME DOES NOT BEGIN WITH THE LETTER J. **_

_**wait... it does on here! **_

_**THAT MUST MEAN I AM BOTH J. K. ROWLING AND J. R. R. TOLKIEN!**_

_**no?**_

_**Darn.**_

_**Well I guess that means...**_

_**I OWN NOTHING!**_

* * *

Harry exhaled sharply. Breathing when one had several broken ribs was not an easy task, painful even. But Harry could not concentrate on that chore through the haze of pain he was in.

He knew that back-chatting Vernon was a bad idea. He had been taught his lesson before, but the last time had been months ago. He had gotten cocky in his absence from discipline.

At least he was being allowed his room.

The image of the ceiling above his head blurred, fuzzy black spots appearing before Harry's eyes. Was this what dying felt like? Vernon had never gotten this close in previous beatings, scared of retribution from "other Freaks".

Evidently he didn't care about that now.

Harry had been in the door for all of two hours before he broke the rules. A broken rule earned a beating. Two rules- well, Harry hadn't ever broken two rules at one until earlier that day. He had grown reckless in his year away. As far as he could tell, breaking two rules was literally a death sentence. Why couldn't he just disappear to somewhere that Harry Potter didn't exist, where he wasn't The Freak or the-boy-who-lived, somewhere where just Harry could be loved?

¬YOUNG ONE¬

Harry's eyes, which he hadn't realised he had closed, snapped open. What was that?

¬IT IS I NIENNA THE COMPASSIONATE¬

Harry thought he had to be delusional, he was now hearing voices. Nienna was a pretty name though.

¬I GIVE THEE THANKS YOUNG ONE¬

Wonderful, the voice was replying to him. At least he had some company in his death. He smiled.

¬DO YOU WISH TO LEAVE THIS PLACE YOUNG ONE¬

Harry found he was amused by the voice. It was very funny. It asked pointless questions. Who wouldn't want to leave the Dursleys?

¬I NEED A DEFINITIVE ANSWER YOUNG ONE¬

"Yes." He croaked, the effort causing his head to spin.

¬GOOD LUCK YOUNG ONE¬

Harry suddenly found himself encompassed by a warm feeling.

¬YOU SHALL BE TAKEN SOMEWHERE YOU SHALL BE LOVED AND REMEMBER TO TELL THEM THAT NIENNA SENT YOU¬

It was almost as if he were floating in a white cloud. A cloud that, whilst comfortable, was doing something to him, but Harry's hazed mind could not figure out what. The clouds suddenly parted and in that same instant Harry was falling.

Everything went black.

* * *

In the land of Middle Earth, at the edge of the forest surrounding the Last Homely House, Elrohir and Elladan were out hunting orcs. They had been tracking one particular band of orcs for a couple of days now, the tracks now being followed only a day or so old. The twins had hated orcs with a passion since they had had to rescue their mother, who left for the Grey Havens not a year later, from being imprisoned by a pack of the foul creatures.

The creatures lived to cause destruction and chaos wherever they went. They needed to be kept away from Imladris at all costs. The twin elves were more than happy to take on the responsibility.

It was two hours past noon when the clouds in the overcast sky decided to drop their loads onto Arda. Elladan and Elrohir were tired but they would press on until they had reached the orcs. They had to make up as much ground as they could in the daylight hours as it was by night that the orcs would be on the move. A sitting target was so much easier to catch.

Suddenly there was a loud crash in the trees to their right, followed by the dull thud of what sounded to be a body hitting the ground. Elrohir turned to share a look with his brother. They had to check. Hopefully it wouldn't be anything to worry about.

They crept in silence for a couple of minutes towards where the sound had come from to find themselves in a small clearing in the trees. At the opposite end lay a small body, no bigger than a child, feet splayed out in such an unnatural position that both ankles had to be broken. Elrohir heard a gasp from his left as his brother took in the scene.

"A hên hanar! Come quickly, we must help the tithen pen."

They crossed the clearing in but a few strides, flinging themselves onto their knees to assess the damage to the little one. In addition to the obviously broken ankles the hên had a broken wrist at first glance. However there were deep wounds covering all of the skin they could see. The child's long hair was covering most of his face and was getting covered with blood, so Elrohir moved some from in front of his face to tuck it behind his ear. It was then when Elrohir froze in disbelief.

"Edhellen." He breathed, "Hanar, he is elvish."

"Impossible." Elladan replied with a dismissive shake of his head.

"Tiro, brother, look! His ears are as pointed as ours. He is one of us, however impossible it may seem."

Elrohir's thoughts darkened. Why had the child's birth not been celebrated? He hardly looked ten summers of age, he should still be with his nana. What could have happens to cause this elfling to be alone and injured? Elrohir shook his head of morbid thoughts and tried to refocus on the task at hand.

"Hanar, we need to get him to adar, and quickly. He is beyond our skill. Boe de nestad." Elladan insisted, and Elrohir could do nought but agree.

He scooped the child up into his arms, freezing for a moment when the tithen pen whimpered in pain.

"Goheno nin." He whispered as he repositioned the child in a way that would both keep his injuries from being jostled and allow himself to run at speed. They needed to get back to Imladris as soon as possible or, dare he even think it, the little one might not make it.

"Gwaem."

* * *

As Harry regained consciousness he immediately noticed three things. Firstly, he was no longer at Privet Drive, none of the beds there were as soft as whatever he was led upon. Secondly, someone had healed him as he was not in as much pain as he had been before, whoever that someone might be. Thirdly, someone, quite possibly the one who had healed him, was sat a couple of feet away, snoring lightly.

He strained his ears for any other sounds of life, but could not hear any indicating another person nearby. Harry cautiously opened his eyes, keeping stone still. Where was he? His surroundings were similar to that of the hospital wing at Hogwarts, indicating that he was in a place of healing. Was he in a muggle hospital? Judging from the lack of any electronic equipment, this could not be the case.

So absorbed in trying to puzzle out where he was. Harry did not notice that the snoring had stopped. He only noticed when he felt a hand upon his shoulder, something he instinctively flinched away from. Harry turned his head to see who had touched him.

The person who had done so was huge! From Harry's view they looked to be almost as big as Hagrid, though not as broad. He had long dark brown hair, almost as black as his own, had deep silver-grey eyes, and, for a male, was very pretty. He looked friendly, but looks could be deceiving.

"Av-'osto tithen pen." The man said. The words he used were foreign to Harry, although the language, whatever it was, sounded almost musical to Harry's ears. He cocked his head to the side, putting a look of confusion on his face.

"Im Elrohir."

Harry had absolutely no clue what the pretty man was talking about, but Harry just wished he would take his hand off of his shoulder.

"Pedil edhellen, hên?" the man said, his intonation indicating he was asking a question. What, Harry couldn't say, but the man didn't seem angry with him.

"Child, can you understand me now?" he asked, changing languages.

Harry smiled, the man spoke English! Harry wasn't sure what he would have done if he didn't. Harry nodded.

"You do not speak Sindarin?" the man said, his disbelief evident.

"No, sir." Harry mumbled, looking down. The man evidently thought him stupid and Harry wasn't going to try and prove him otherwise, no one ever changed their mind about him once they had an idea of who they thought he was.

"What is your name young one?"

What was his name, what should he tell him? If he told him that he was Harry Potter would he start treating him different? Did Harry even want to be The Harry Potter here? Harry thought the matter over quickly and decided to answer the man somewhat truthfully with the one of the names that he had been responding to his entire pre-Hogwarts life and this summer.

"My name is Freak, sir." Harry replied quietly, "Where am I, sir?"

The man's eyes widened in shock, but quickly slid a mask of cheerfulness onto his face. Harry hated masks, despite the fact he wore one himself. You could never gage when someone was going to lash out at you if they had a mask on.

"We are in Imladris."

Harry still had no clue where he was and evidently it showed on his face as the pretty man spoke again.

"Imladris, also known as Rivendell or the Last Homely House East of the Sea."

Harry stayed quiet and looked down.

"What were you doing on your own out in the woods, tithen pen?" the pretty man prompted.

Harry hesitated for a moment before looking up and speaking quietly. "This lady told me she was sending me somewhere where I could be loved, sir. I don't remember being in the woods, sir."

"Did she give you her name?" he asked.

"She said her name was Nienna, sir."

The man's eyes widened. "Are you sure?" he whispered. Harry nodded and looked down again.

"Is your name really Freak, little one?"

Harry bit his bottom lip and nodded again.

"Would you like a new name, hên?"

Harry nodded once more and mumbled, "I'm not a chicken, sir."

The man chuckled, "I did not mean it in that way, hên is Elvish for child."

"Elvish?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Yes!" the man said triumphantly, "For we are elves!"

Harry shook his head. He could hardly say that he was a wizard, but he was definitely not an elf.

"I'm human. A human freak."

"Tithen pen," he said, his eyes filling with pity, "You are not a freak."

It was then that it struck Harry that the pretty man kept calling him a child. He was almost twelve, he was not a little kid!

"I'm not a little kid!" Harry said petulantly.

"How old are you?"

"Almost twelve!"

"Why, you are but a babe!"

"I'm not! How old are you?"

"2888." he said nonchalantly. Harry's jaw dropped. The pretty man looked no older than 30!

"How?" Harry breathed.

"I am an elf." the man said and pointed to his ears. The were pointed! He really was an elf!

"And you are to." the man continued.

Harry froze. He wasn't an elf. He, he couldn't be. But then again, this man, no, elf seemed pretty sure of it. Harry reached up and touched his ear with his hand. It was pointy! Since when had he become an elf? Harry sighed, he wasn't even human anymore.

"I'm still a freak." he mumbled.

"Right!" The elf said suddenly after a few moments of awkward silence and clapped his hands together, "We were getting you a name weren't we, tithen pen?"

Harry nodded and the elf looked thoughtful.

"How about Rivorndir?"

Harry shook his head.

"Míresgalon?" Harry pulled a face at the name.

Estennor, Nibenor, Ellon and Boridhren were all rejected. So was Edenor.

Elenrín was the next name suggested. Harry hesitated in rejecting this name, and then nodded with a yawn. He liked it. It was different, but he liked the way it sounded.

"What does it mean?" he asked softly, his eyes drooping slightly.

"It means crowned by the stars, hên." the pretty elf said with a smile, "Why don't you have a nap Elenrín?"

Harry, now Elenrín, huffed. He wasn't a baby that needed naps at random times.

"I'm not tired." he said, another yawn betraying his lie.

"Sleep" the elf said, and pulled the duvet up to Harry's shoulders, "You are safe here."

Before he knew it Harry had been pulled into the land of nod.

* * *

**So there you have it! Love it? Hate it?**

**Let me know what you think in a review or I shall get Saruman to imprison you on top of Isengard! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA**


End file.
